This is a Friday Fictioneers submission for 2nd October. Thanks to Marie Gail Stratford for the prompt.
The receptionist watches. Another brace of punters, here for the boss, wondering where they’ll be dispatched. They’re making small talk now, pretending they don’t care what’s riding on today, but they do. They always do. One 15 minute chat with the boss, a cursory glance at their CVs and that’s it. They’ll be living the outcome for years.
Whatever happens, she hopes they’ll take it gracefully. If they raise a grievance, she’ll be the one who has to log the paperwork. it’s progress, she supposes, but it was easier before St Peter retired and they outsourced his job to Capita.